


On Dark Horses

by ratketeering



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Horse Sibling Support Group, Post-War of the Ring, Unsolicited Comments re Women's Bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratketeering/pseuds/ratketeering
Summary: Unkind word of the Lady of Ithilien spreads through Minas Tirith.
Relationships: Éomer Éadig & Éowyn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	On Dark Horses

**Author's Note:**

> fallow / (ˈfæləʊ) /  
>  _adjective_  
>  1\. (of land) plowed and left unseeded for a season or more; uncultivated.  
> 2\. (of a sow) not pregnant.  
> 3\. pale-yellow; light-brown; dun.
> 
> "It’s the darkhorse we give legs to that I am proud to ride. In the wake of weak beginnings, we can still stand high. It’s you and I, you and I."  
> — [_Darkhorse_ , Emma Ruth Rundle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H91clb6IlVI)

From the pitchy depths of Minas Tirith, talk of the Steward’s wife seeps like pus from a festering wound, and the arrival of a Rohirrim court retinue does little to staunch it. In black susurration, moans drift to the surface, bold in their despair. _N_ _o_ _living_ _man_ _she may be_ _, but neither is_ _she_ _woman._ _T_ _oo brash, too broad — of mind_ and _shoulder — and likely barren, besides!_ _Fallow_ _seed_ _of Rohan, birthed of fallow fields._

Éomer meets his sister’s laughing eyes across the court floor and nods in place of a proper greeting, small and secret: tip of brow, twitch of lips. It is the same paltry gift he has given her all their lives, across their clasped arms, as they lifted each other off the cold ground. Fallen from mounts into the mire, broken upon the barrows of those they have loved. And for all his kingly wealth, it is the only thing of any value he can offer her.

The baleful voices speak rightly: Éowyn, Lady of Ithilien, is fallow.

She is the fallow-breasted meadowlark, wheeling wildly from earth to sky; she is Meduseld’s pale gold-gild walls, weathering gale and sleet. She is as the fallow belts of feathergrass that lash the White Mountains, abiding heedless of drought or blade or sweeping flame. It is her fallow, flaxen hair which spooled into the wind as she brought low the shadow cast on the walls of Men. If those in the mossy corners of the White City’s alehouses have tongues left to wag, it is but for the Mark’s fallow daughter.

Éowyn beams a golden response and bows her head in silent laughter, incautious of the ancient clerk unleashing a stormy tirade against the Prince sat beside her. The man’s words creak to a halt. A scattered chorus of tuts rustles through the assembly in accompaniment, and pride leaps up to close Éomer’s throat and burn his eyes. Gondor may not have memory for anything not put to writing, but the Sons of Eorl will sing of the hero of Pelennor after even the sun dies in the vaulted heavens.

Éomer watches as Faramir’s attention shifts in its gentle way, temporarily abandoning the fuming clerk in favor of his sister. He casts a fond — fond, and bemused — look at her, and Éomer cannot help the bright embers of devotion that the exchange stokes in his own breast. Faramir glances upward to follow Éowyn's sight, and when his grey eyes snag on Éomer’s, a slow smile lights upon his lips; accord smooths his brow. The flames climb higher, effusing through Éomer’s entire body, and the glimmering hall blurs before him.

He has heard it said that the Prince of Ithilien is one for histories. Perhaps, the children of Gondor will yet remember the fallow seeds of Rohan, borne far from fallow fields, throughout the long winds of time.

**Author's Note:**

> This may turn into a series of shorts, depending on how long it takes me to recover from my annual LotR film marathon & burn through this purple prose streak. Who knows, it's a mystery.
> 
> I'm at ratketeering on tumblr dot com, hit me up if you want to talk about how great Horse Siblings are or if you want to talk to someone who has a kindergarten-level education in Tolkien.


End file.
